Release
by Au revoir Amour
Summary: Could be a sequel to Goal Four, but you don't need to read that first. Spock/Nyota lemonaide.


Slowly, in the early hours of the morning, Nyota awoke to the usual sensation— long, gentle fingers tracing circular patterns along her spine. The first morning she had woken to this feeling had been startling, but by now she was used to it. She also knew what would greet her when she rolled over, and sighed.

Mornings were painful.

For weeks, mornings had been the same. Most Vulcans don't dream, and if they do, it was only on rare occasions. To dream was to lose one's control over their mental state, and for Vulcans, this was always unacceptable— even in sleep. So when her Vulcan lover began to complain of dreams, of course this made her worry— and the soft, careful designs he would draw on her skin began to become more desperate and almost crucial to his mental state.

Nyota turned over, and met her lover's bitterly grieving eyes. In sleep, he would relax just enough for his control to wane, and for the pain to come forth in his dreams. He would sometimes describe them to her in great detail, bringing stinging tears to her eyes as he retold the events over and over— Amanda was just out of his reach, and his home crumbled beneath her feet as he stood frozen there, unable to help her. His mother was never far from his thoughts, except in his rare occasions in which he was happy— the most being when they were making love.

Tears threatened to fall as he desperately tried to regain some control over his emotions, his eyes green around the edges— the equivalent of a human's red-rimmed eyes. No one before Nyota had seen Spock cry, except his mother when he was very little. It was not something that he was proud of, but reliving the most agonising experience he had ever endured in his dreams was just enough to break him, every single morning.

"Good morning," he said, his slightly dismal tone not hiding the fact that no morning was ever a good morning since the day Amanda died. Only a few weeks had passed, and the cuts were still deep— sometimes it felt as though some were still bleeding.

Nyota kissed his forehead and wrapped her arms around him, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It was still too early to get out of bed, but she knew he wouldn't have been able to, anyway. When a Vulcan's emotional barrier breaks, it is as if their whole being is being torn apart; sometimes she imagined that this must be even worse for Spock, because he had been cursed with the deep, violent emotions of a Vulcan man, and the inability to fully control them of a human one. On the outside, he was cold; on the inside, a fire burned within him so hot that it threatened to consume both of them. But Nyota wouldn't let it.

"I love you," she whispered, lying feather-light kisses on the inside of his ear. He was trembling, his fingers still dancing over the exposed skin of her shoulder. He was drawing Vulcan symbols into her dark skin like he used to the sand of his home-planet when he was a small child. The colour was just right, and he found it calmed him to the point that he no longer felt like he was moments away from exploding beneath his own skin. As his lover pulled away from him he made an almost primal-sounding noise of frustration, reaching out to her almost franticly.

She gently pulled the tank top she had worn to bed up and off of her, exposing more of that beautiful skin for him. He greedily ran his pale hands over her upper body, needing her more than he needed oxygen. She was all he had left. She was his only home now.

"Nyota," he breathed, sitting up and burying his face in her breasts. She tangled her hands in his hair once more as he continued to explore her; re-memorising every inch of her skin as though he had forgotten it in the few hours he had been asleep. She ran her hands down his chest and tugged lightly at the hem of his nightshirt, which he quickly shed, along with his pyjama bottoms.

Spock pushed her down into the mattress, using the opportunity of surprise to explore her with his mouth, gently running his tongue over her dark nipples, and lying small kisses and light bites long her skin as he worked his way down to the little shorts she wore to bed, easing them over her hips and down her smooth legs when he reached them.

"Spock." Nyota said his name kindly, gaining his attention as he lifted his head to look her in the eyes. They were dark, and filled with that lusty need they always were in the mornings. For him, this was not lovemaking. This was not sex. This was release, and the only thing that would allow him to forget for the few moments it would take him to regain his control.

Spock cupped her face with both his hands and kissed her, bruising her lips as he tried to lose himself in her. One of his hands left his face long enough to slide down her already sweaty body and probe her sticky center, separating the folds of skin and pushing his finger inside. She gasped, and he removed his finger, only to add two more.

"Oh!" Nyota exclaimed as he ran his rough thumb over the sensitive nub at the top of her opening, enticing another moan as he did it again. He slowly removed his hand from her heat and slid it up her thigh. She sighed as he spread her legs further and hooked one of her knees over his shoulder. He placed his erection at her entrance and looked up at her, asking permission as he always did.

Her slight nod was all he needed to continue, pushing his hardened penis into her, moaning as he did so. All comprehensive thoughts were pushed from his head as he slowly moved within her, pulling almost all the way out, then completely sheathing himself within her.

She closed her eyes and let him do most of the work, only weakly pushing her hips up to meet his with each thrust as they gained a steady rhythm. She was too tired to do more than that, and even so, he was trying his best to please her. He wanted her to get release from this too, if in a different way, because he felt the human part of him tearing at the seams with the thought of using her this way for his own selfish gain.

He grunted suddenly, picking up the pace. Nyota moaned, arching her back to meet him. She was on the edge, and he knew it, gently sliding his hand between them and again stimulating the tiny pearl that would send her crashing over it.

"Spoc—_oh_!" she exclaimed, barely getting his name out as the orgasm hit and she moaned. The sound she made sent him too over the edge, and he forcefully came into her, yelling her name along with several words in Vulcan.

Afterward, they lay panting in a sweaty pile of limbs of the soaked sheets of their previously clean bed, each thinking different thing.

Spock knew he could control himself, and the grief he would never fully get over was pushed so deep into the back of his mind that he almost forgot it was there— but he knew that the next morning it would resurface, as well as the morning after that. He sighed and rolled off his beloved, settling in next to her so that they were spooning with her back to his front, and traced lazy circles on her shoulder.

Nyota revelled in the warmth of him, wondering how anyone could think him cold, even on the exterior.

The workday began a few hours later, both officers feeling refreshed enough that they could plaster on the masks that the other crewmen saw, covering what they were really thinking. Nightfall, sleep and dreams came as normal, and in the morning? Release.


End file.
